


a conversation, a realization, a promise

by softshark



Series: parent and child fics [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshark/pseuds/softshark
Summary: Fingolfin and Fëanor get in to trouble, and Fingolfin and Finwë have a much needed conversation.





	a conversation, a realization, a promise

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for daywillcomeagain over on tumblr! They requested some bitter, second son Fingolfin and something about Finwë. I swear this started out with a hurt/comfort intent, but it evolved into angst... But then, this was also supposed to be a mini-fic so I think we can all agree I have issues with my writing getting away from me.

Finwë walked through the halls of his palace with command and determination. An onlooker might mistake it for the stride of a King walking through his halls on his way to his throne to deal out judgement and manage disputes and disorder in his kingdom; but Finwë was not a king walking his palace halls, right now, he was a father skulking through his home to deal out judgement to rambunctious sons and manage disputes between inflammatory brothers.  
  


As he neared the corner of the palace that housed the royal family’s personal forge, the smell of smoke aggressively made itself known to his nose, and the sounds of shouts assaulted his ears.

“NOLOFINWE YOU IDIOT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!! I JUST WANTED TO WATCH AND YOU GOT ALL UPSET!! MAYBE IF YOU WERE AS GOOD A FORGEMASTER AS YOU WANT EVERYONE TO BELIEVE YOU’D HAVE KEPT IT FROM EXPLODING!!”  
“YOU WEREN’T JUST WATCHING, YOU WERE TRYING TO STEAL MY SECRETS!”

Finwë yanked the fine cloth curtain that covered the entry to the forge back, “BOYS!” He thundered, causing his two sons to wheel around in surprise.

The forge was a mess, the fire had gone out and there was great billowing clouds of smoke rising from it. The whole room was covered in ash and soot, the furniture scattered everywhere, his two sons were not looking much better.

Fëanáro’s eyes were wide in horror, ears drooped low, lip quivering at the sight of his father; his clothes were almost unidentifiable under the layers of soot and ash, his obsidian hair a mess.

His younger son had a very different look on his face, and Finwë almost had to laugh. Nolofinwë’s ability to look like an ancient elf, able to remember Cuiviénen, when he was only 20 years old never ceased to amaze him… Though sometimes it was mostly ridiculous. His son was giving him a disgruntled, defiant look. A little better off than his brother in regard to soot and ash, but his hair was the disaster- the textured hair he had inherited from his Vanya mother frizzed up beyond belief, sticking out at odd angles.

Finwë gave both of them a hard look. “Is this any way for princes to behave?”  
“Atar!” Fëanáro declared, switching suddenly into the commanding voice laced with power of submission that he was just beginning to develop, “I’m so sorry for the state of our forge, it was all Nolofinwë’s fault-“  
“The forge is not what I’m talking about.” Finwë cut him off, his son had a long way to go until he could even began to sway his king and father with the power of his voice. “I am referring to this disreputable arguing and bickering. And that-“ He pointed a jeweled finger at Fëanáro, “Is also to what I am referring. It is the prerogative of princes to conduct themselves with dignity and judiciousness, and you, in particular, my Curufinwë, are the crown prince. You should be ashamed to jump so readily to place blame elsewhere. It is an act of cowardice and betrays a fundamental inability to lead. It is the duty of a leader to create harmony and not hold yourself above others, to recognize their own shortcoming lest the Shadow find his way into your heart.”  
Fëanáro looked as if his father were beating him over the head with a forge sword with every word, and it nearly broke Finwë’s resolve.

He doted on his beloved, eldest child far too much, he knew. He let Fëanáro get away with far too much, and exercise his own will far too readily, but Finwë couldn’t help it, so deep was the love in his heart for his little spirit of fire; and deeper down, more sinister, he felt a guilt profound for his choice to remarry, and the impact it had on him.

Finwë sighed, “Curvo, clean up in here, I want it to be as spotless as it was before this-“ he waved his hand in uncertainty, “whatever happened here. Once that is done you are free to go wash yourself. I will come to talk with you later. Nolo…” He said, voice softening as he turned to the little elf, who’d turned to look away from his father, with a weight of bitterness bearing down on him. “Nolo you will come with me.”  
“But, ATAR-“ Fëanáro began in protest, but Finwë to cut him off with another threatening finger.  
“It is the duty of a king to maintain order in his kingdom and to take responsibility to restore it when it is ruined, even if it is not his fault! That is the tradeoff we make when we are granted the trust of our people to govern and placed in fine gilded halls! Let this be your kingdom and let this teach you the importance of peace keeping and tolerance.”  
Fëanáro’s entire form drooped, once more, shooting Nolofinwë a last look of daggers as their father scooped him up in his arms and drifted out of the room. They walked in silence for a time, before Nolofinwë finally asked with a small, but still insolent, voice, “Where are we going?”

“We are going to the wash room in Atar’s bedroom to get this mess cleaned off you.”

There were a couple beats of quiet before he replies, “Grandmother says that it is strange how much time you spend raising us.”  
Finwë took ‘us’ to mean his children and let out a sigh. “Your grandmother is a Vanya, and the Vanyar have become too consumed with emulating the ways of the Valar, and the Valar have no children. Parenting is something they do not understand, and so the Vanyar have become less engaged in the raising of their own children.”  
Nolofinwë’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t we their children?”  
Finwë laughed, “We are the Children of Illúvatar, the Valar exist as an extension of his will on within the world.”  
“Maybe we should be worried then, if they don’t know how to parent.”  
Finwë had to stop in his track’s laughter had burst over him and consumed him so much.

“I was being serious.” He frowned.

“I know you were, yondoya, that is what pleases me, so. There is immense wisdom in you, and the honesty of youth makes the wisdom all the more delightful.”

They lapsed into silence again as Finwë resumed their journey to his bedroom, relishing the peace and quiet of their palace as he listened to the sound of his son’s mind turning.  
“Atar, why were you so hard on Fëanáro but not me? It was my fault just as much as his, but he has to clean up all on his own.”  
“That is why, little prince.”  
“….. Why is why?”  
“Because you understand the importance of taking responsibility of your actions, and you are judicious in your decisions and sincere in your honesty. You understand fairness at such a young age that, even though your king and father made his decision and you had no duty to question it, you have stood up and expressed what you believe is right even at cost to yourself; even on behalf of one I do not think you particularly like very much at the moment.”  
They had reached his bedroom, and he pushed the door aside with his foot, carrying him into the wash room and setting him down to turn on the water.

When he turned to look, Nolofinwë was regarding him, deep in thought.

“What is it, yondoya?”  
“You never punish Fëanáro though.”  
Finwë’s brows furrowed and his ears flattened slightly, in thought. “What do you mean, my Nolo?”  
“When Fëanáro does a bad thing, you usually scold him but he never faces any… any… conse- conquest- conquists-“  
“Consequences…?” Finwë supplied, softly.  
“Yes. If I do something bad, I have to go in time out or do a chore or something I don’t like. But Fëanáro doesn’t…. Findis says it is because you love him more than us.”

Finwë turned sharply at that moment, to scoop his son in to his arms, “Nolofinwë Aracáno, that is absolutely not true do you understand me?! I love all my children equally, you are all very different, but my love is immeasurable for each of you.” Even as the words came from his mouth, he felt the unease in the half-truth, but he quashed the sense of self shame beginning to rise in him and continued, “If I am easier on Fëanáro, it is because I pity him and worry for him. You know that he lost his Amil when he was young, yes? And then I found a new wife, and had more children, and though he is your family, and a part of our family, he feels misplaced, so I…. I perhaps do not parent him as fairly as I should.”  
“If our Ammë died, would we never have to be in trouble ever again?”  
  


Finwë laughed, “No, my boy, that is not how it works. And I should not let that weigh my treatment of Fëanáro versus the rest of my children, anyway. I will try to be better, in the future, and you must hold me responsible.” He said, kissing Nolo’s little knuckles.

 

He looked at his father, eyes suddenly sad. “I’m not good at anything, how can I ever hope to be considered as great as him if he’s so talented and I am not?”  
Finwë pulled the tunic over his son’s head, stripping his pants off next. “You are young yet, Nolofinwë, younger than he, but already you have shown your worth and greatness. I am proud of you, my son, I am excited to see the elf you will become come. I have no doubt that you will become as great as Curufinwë when you are both grown. But you must promise me something, Aracáno- you must promise to never allow feuding or jealousy to come between you and your brother, or any of your siblings. Jealous and competition have no place in the family, and even when Fëanáro sows discord, as I fear he may for many years to come, you must be a guiding force of calm and good counsel, for I believe that is your gift, just as craft work is his; and though it may seem a greater burden to bear, and less appreciated by those around you, it is a far greater gift…. And I hope, that in time, Feanaro will learn this from you, as well.”  
  


Finwë looked at his beloved son, eyes wide and prickling with tears.  
“I wish that gift was not mine. I want to be able to show you magnificent things, and make your eyes sparkle in the wonder of my craft.”  
“Ai, but I will. I promise I will. I swear to you that every day I shall marvel at the wonder of your wisdom and strength, and I promise that Atar will be a better and fairer Atar for you and your siblings- so long as you promise me to be a leader even when Curufinwë might fail. Promise me you will be your brother’s keeper.”  
Nolofinwë smiled, seemingly pleased with this new responsibility.

“I promise, Atar.”

 

_In later years, with retrospect viewed more clearly through the lens of age and wisdom. Nolofinwë’s pleasure at the responsibility would grow to resentment, that even in his father’s appreciation of him, Curufinwë came in to the picture._

_But in the very late years, thousands of years later, when the noontide had come to an end in dark chaos, and his father had forgotten and broken the promise he made on that day in the young light of the trees, when he had left the responsibility of kingship to him; Nolofinwë neither forgot nor broke his, not even as the blood of his father was spilled on the steps of his favorite son’s home._


End file.
